


Take No Chances

by Anonymous



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Established Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Injury Recovery, M/M, Near Death Experiences, One Shot, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 20:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15032765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple meeting. Nothing more, nothing less.Unfortunately, things never stayed simple in a place called Brooklyn.





	Take No Chances

Spot glanced at the time, a small sigh leaving him as he thought over his plans for the day. Jack had asked to meet him, something Spot didn’t agree to often, but after enough pestering from Race, he relented. 

He never could say no to those soft eyes. 

Shaking his head, Spot grinned a little to himself as he headed out into the Brooklyn streets. The afternoon sun was a pleasant warmth, the streets bustling as workers headed home. Taking a few turns, Spot whistled to himself as he took his memorized path to the docks, his mind flowing elsewhere. 

If only he had been paying attention, he might’ve had time to run away.

With thoughts distracted, Spot was yanked by his arm and thrown into an alley, a rough, large man standing over him. Scrambling to his feet, Spot’s fists clenched by his sides and his mind raced as he tried to find a way out of this. 

“C’mon kid. Give me what you got,” the man loomed and Spot backed up a few steps for good measure.

“No,” Spot shot back, giving an even stare. 

He had worked hard for his money and not even the most fearsome person in the world could take that from Spot.

“Doing this the hard way, huh?” The man sneered before he lunged for Spot. 

Ducking out of his way, Spot shot around the man, but his arm was snagged at the last second. With a snarl, Spot shoved and kicked, the man’s grip tightening as he made attempt after attempt to land some hard blows. 

With a punch to the head, Spot was sent sprawling, his face almost smashing into the brick wall. The man dug into Spot’s pockets and Spot kicked him, hitting the man in the stomach. The fight began again as Spot jumped to his feet, desperately clawing his way past the man. 

A sharp blast sounded in the alley and Spot stumbled back as the man ran off. 

“Yeah, you better run!” Spot yelled after him, wincing just a little when something sharp poked at his side. 

Letting out a heavy breath, Spot surveyed the alley for any remains of his earnings when he felt something wet seeping through his shirt. He reached down, hand running along his side before he drew it back, hissing in pain. 

Red stained his fingers and Spot blinked as the shock hit him in waves. With a small gasp, he fell back against the brick wall, his knees giving way. His hand rushed to his side and Spot let a small laugh leave him as his mind faded in and out.

There was no point in calling for help. All he could do was think of Race, his newsies, hoping they’d all be taken care of. He had faith in them, that much was sure. 

Spot sank to the ground, welcoming the darkness that creeped at the edge of his sight and he gave one last glance at the sky, counting the clouds that passed overhead.

~

“It sounded like it came from down there,” David murmured. 

Staring down the street, Race, Jack, and David waited until they saw a man shoot out from an alley. Exchanging looks, the three weren’t sure what to do until they heard a familiar voice shout after the man. Race ran ahead first, his legs not fast enough, and he stumbled into the alley, his eyes searching.

Spot was on his side, a crumpled mess as a dark puddle surrounded him. Race’s vision blurred and he threw himself onto Spot, mind and body refusing to work together.

“No, no,” Race shook his head frantically, cradling Spot’s head in his hands.

Spot hardly stirred and Race lifted him into a seated position, trying to shake Spot awake.

“Jack, get help!” David rushed to Race’s aid, helping him hold Spot up. 

Jack shot off and David’s mind raced, not knowing where to start.

“What do I do, Davey?” Race babbled, tears streaming down his face. “What do I do?”

Trying to remember something, anything, David shook his head, hoping his father’s advice would help. 

“Keep pressure on the wound, Race,” David instructed, taking Spot from Race’s grip. “Use your cap, anything, to stop the blood. We just gotta hold it off long enough.”

David’s voice fell to a whisper and he could only watch as Race tore off his shirt, pulling Spot’s hand away from his side and pressing the fabric tight to the wound.

Small sobs were leaving Race and David took one hand from Spot’s face to wrap it around Race’s shoulders. He wanted to say something to reassure him, but at this point, David wasn’t sure if Spot was going to make it or not. Jack seemed to be taking ages. 

“What if he dies? I can’t lose him, I can’t–”

David made no move to interrupt Race’s crying. None of his answers were the right ones and by the time Jack finally came back with help, Race had to be torn from Spot’s side. The boys made their way to the Brooklyn lodging house, Jack carrying Spot as the doctor instructed them on what was to happen next. 

When they arrived, the untrusting glances turned into horrified stares and Spot’s second - Silver - needed Jack’s help to keep everyone in order. Amongst all the chaos, David managed to get Race and himself to a corner as Spot was brought upstairs with the doctor. 

When Jack came back, David watched he explained everything to Silver, the girl on the verge of tears as she nodded her understanding. The two glanced towards the stairs before joining David and Race in the common room, the rest of the newsies dispersed in their worry. 

The four sat in silence, the numbness starting to take over all of Race’s body as they waited. Race could practically hear every second tick by, his trembling hands going up to his ears to deafen the noise. It wasn’t until heavy steps sounded on the stairs that Race brought his hands down and the four stared at the doctor as he adjusted his sleeves. 

“He’ll live,” the doctor stated and Race leapt to his feet. The doctor held out his hand, giving a pointed stare before continuing on. “He’s very weak. He’ll need to stay in bed for a few days before the wound has to be reexamined.”

“We understand,” David spoke for everyone, standing up and setting a hand on Race’s shoulder. 

The doctor seemed pleased by David’s presence and he nodded sternly. “See that he takes care of the wound. You may see him, but don’t cause too much excitement.”

That was all it took before Race rushed up the stairs, ignoring David’s call as he ran to Spot’s room. He burst through the door and paused, his throat closing up as he saw Spot on his bed. 

His shirt had been removed, bandages wrapped around his waist, but all Race noticed was how pale he looked. Shutting the door behind him, Race stepped over to the bed, his breaths as short and shallow as Spot’s. 

“Spot?” Race asked above a whisper, coming down to sit at Spot’s side. 

Spot stirred, his eyes opening just a crack. “Race,” he attempted to grin, but his face managed a small quirk at best. 

Taking Spot’s hand, Race held it close, not caring how tight his grip was. Tears were spilling out of his eyes and he brushed his lips across Spot’s knuckles. 

“Don’t...” Race began, his voice wavering. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Not my fault I got shot,” Spot teased, hand opening just a little to touch Race’s face. 

“I know,” Race shook his head. “But you were alone. If we wasn’t...if Davey hadn’t…”

Spot sighed, working his hand out of Race’s grip to cup his cheek. “Yeah, but you were there. And Davey did whatever he did. Right now there’s no what if’s, Race. I’m alive. We’re okay.”

With the last of his resolve crumbling, Race shot forward, pressing his lips against Spot’s. He couldn’t stop his crying, but Spot didn’t seem to mind, his hand tangling into Race’s hair. When they pulled away, Race brushed away the remaining tears, unable to stop the small laugh when he saw wetness on Spot’s face. 

“Sorry,” Race mumbled, wiping at Spot’s face. 

“No need to be.”

The two stared into each other’s eyes, fears and hesitation swarming within and Race thought to curl up next to Spot until a knock on the door interrupted them. 

“Well, here comes the parade,” Spot muttered and Race laughed a little. 

Although reluctant to leave Spot’s side, Race got up to answer the door, a small grin on his face when he saw Jack, David, and Silver. The three rushed in to Spot’s side and Race glanced back into the hallway to see it filled to the brim with Brooklyn newsies. 

“Uh, four at a time, okay?” Race attempted to have some semblance of control. 

The newsies nodded their heads quickly before Race went back into the room to see everyone sitting on Spot’s bed. There were small smiles growing on each face and Race breathed out, the first of his relief coming in waves. 

Spot was alive, he’d be well taken care of, and Race joined the group when Silver patted the free space of bed next to her, not that it could be called a space at all. Squeezing in, Race caught Spot’s stray glances as he chatted with Jack and David, the moment almost perfect if it hadn’t been due to Spot nearly dying. 

Noting Spot’s hand on the bed, Race let his own trail just until their fingertips were touching. No one else was paying them mind and Race’s bravery took over, hooking his pinky with Spot’s. While there were still long days ahead, Race didn’t mind so much. It’d be an excuse to see Spot more often and when Race glanced at Silver, all he could do was blush as she grinned at his and Spot’s small embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> [Chumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


End file.
